


A Wingbeat

by Karla1209



Series: Wingbeats [1]
Category: Winnetou - Karl May
Genre: Endless love - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16176584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karla1209/pseuds/Karla1209
Summary: Die Liebe hemmet nichts,sie kennt nicht Tür noch Riegel,Und dringt durch alles sich;Sie ist ohn Anbeginn,schlug ewig ihre Flügel,Und schlägt sie ewiglich.(Matthias Claudius)Love does not obstruct,It knows neither door nor lock,It infuses everything;It has no beginning,It beat its wings everlastingAnd will continue for ever and ever.





	A Wingbeat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [esteven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteven/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Kissing your best friend](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/421547) by paperclipmikey. 



> For Dana - This is your scene!
> 
> Thank you so much, esteven, for translating! And thank you, paperclipmikey, for the inspiration by your lovely drawing!
> 
> English is not our first language, so please try to ignore possible mistakes.

A flame from a little fire lit the room in a dim red where two men rested on numerous furs and blankets. One of them was fast asleep while the other sat upright, watching the flame casting shadows over the relaxed face of the sleeper.

While the one sitting and watching was an Indee*, the sleeper was undoubtedly a white man, his unkempt blond hair falling in his forehead. It was nigh past midnight and there was no reason for keeping watch because both men were safe, secure within an old pueblo’s thick walls and guarded by the tribe they led.

Still, sleep eluded Winnetou on his bed. His gaze rested on the features of the man he loved beyond all measure, who meant more to him than his own life. He would risk anything, everything for him. The chief did not want to close his eyes during their first night together, when his beloved blood brother was finally at his side again after more than four moons.

The Apache raised his hand slowly. He yearned to touch his Sharlih, but then withdrew because he feared waking the friend, as gentle as his caress might have been. He did not want that. Old Shatterhand had been almost completely exhausted after the long ride during which he had only paused to give his horse a rest. He had spared neither himself nor his animal to be with the Apaches again as soon as possible.

Thus, the Mescalero simply sat there, his beloved sleeping beside him. He listened to Sharlih’s breathing, let his gaze wander across every inch of skin visible from under the blankets and he smiled. His smile was filled with rapture, love and devotion.

After a few moments though it was replaced with a feeling that constricted the Apache’s throat, without him being able to explain why. He tried to fight these emotions, but realized after a little while, that he had to put the sentiments that cast shadows over their reunion, into words.

“My Sharlih, again, you have been away so long. My days have been empty, and my nights were cold without you. I have needed thee – “

Whispered words full of longing, a confession that his friend was not supposed to hear. Winnetou only got carried away with voicing his weakness because his blood brother was fast asleep.

Nevertheless, the silence had been deceptive. Shatterhand had been awake for a while but had not dared to move so as not to disturb his lover’s seeming peace. But now that he heard Winnetou’s whispered plea, he opened his eyes.

“Winnetou! Why are you still awake?”

“I wished to guard your sleep” was the simple reply. “Forgive me for having woken you.”

The white man sat up swift. “Never you mind. I am glad your words woke me up.”

“You heard them?” Winnetou sighed. “Again, forgive me and forgive my weakness.”

The white man raised his hand to cup the side of the Indee’s face, who had lowered his eyes in shame. Shatterhand could hardly bear seeing his friend tormenting himself in the mistaken belief of having appeared weak or cowardly.

“No, no! Winnetou! Look at me, please look at me.” Shatterhand pleaded, and the chief finally lifted his gaze. “I love you, and I hope, indeed I know, that you love me as well. Therefore I ask you to never, ever again call your love for me a weakness.”

When he realized how his words had been interpreted, the Apache tried to pull away - almost afraid - from the touch that caressed his cheek. “Sharlih – Winnetou did – “

“Shhh,” Shatterhand interrupted him by laying a finger on his lover’s lips. “It is alright. All is fine. I missed you so much. It is me who has to ask your forgiveness. It is me who needs you! So much – I love you – so very – I – ”

This time it was the Apache who interrupted his blood brother by pushing his hand away gently to seal his beloved’s mouth with a kiss.

Shatterhand wanted to protest, because, to him, it felt important to finish his sentence, but then he understood that words could not explain what the two of them obviously felt - how much they had missed each other, how much they needed each other, how much they loved each other.

The white man thus surrendered to the touching of the soft lips against his, running his free hand through the Apache’s dark hair while his other hand skimmed from Winnetou's cheek over his shoulder to his upper arm. The Apache’s hands started wandering too, trying to pull his beloved closer, sliding over the warm skin to express closeness, comfort and love.

Their lips parted only, when their hearts beat again as one, when their breathing became one single river, and when their souls had found each other and entwined.

“Lie down with me,” Shatterhand asked. “I wish to feel you near me.”

Winnetou complied with his lover’s request by taking off the hunting shirt he still wore in one smooth movement. 

As the Apache had guarded his blood brother during the first half of the night, it was now Shatterhand who drew his friend into his arms, hid his face in the silky black abundance of Winnetou’s hair, then slid his left leg between the Apache’s and whispered “And now, sleep, my Winnetou, sleep.”

Much later the Apache’s deep breath revealed that he was in the land of dreams while being safely held in his Sharlih’s arms. Into the darkness of the dying flame the white man whispered the promise he had not dared to utter before. “I will always return to you, I will always be there for you, I will always hold you, always keep you, always love you!”

And a smile appeared on Winnetou’s features.

**Author's Note:**

> The word "Indee" we chose to describe Winnetou is the designation the Apaches used when they referred to themselves. For more information check here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mescalero


End file.
